Will it still run at 14,000 feet?
Article by Justin Hughes / @Knerd Rider
7/25/2025
Featured, KLR 650, Mountains, Pikes Peak
When I lived in New England, I both worked and covered the Climb to the Clouds race up Mount Washington, New Hampshire. In fact, I was one of the first on the scene when then-record holder David Higgins crashed off the side of the mountain in 2017, but that’s another story. New England is extremely proud of Mount Washington. At 6,288 feet, it’s the highest peak in the northeast, and was long the site of the highest recorded wind speed in history, 231 mph (372 km/h). But that peak is still lower than the 7,400 foot base of Pikes Peak, Colorado, home of the other major hill climb race in the US. So of course, while exploring Colorado this past summer, I had to visit.
Photo: Justin Hughes
I set up my moto-glamping base camp in the nearby Pike National Forest, where I could stay for free for up to 14 days. Pikes Peak was just one of many goals for this stay, which also included exploring the local network of Forest Service roads, as well as staying cool at 9,300 feet while places like Denver and nearby Colorado Springs roasted through a heat wave. It was a short drive there from my previous camp near Sedalia, so I decided to waste no time and visit Pikes Peak that same afternoon.
The Ascent Begins
It was a short, easy ride to the town of Cascade, and then onto the Pikes Peak Highway. Sadly for adventure riders like us, the final dirt section of this road was paved in 2011, eliminating this part of the challenge for riders and racers alike. While motorcycles have been part of the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb for years, they were banned from the race after the tragic death of Carlin Dunne during the 2019 event.
Photo: Justin Hughes
Fortunately, motorcycles are still allowed to ride up Pikes Peak at more sensible speeds. I was riding not a Ducati, but my trusty Kawasaki KLR650, which is orders of magnitude slower and would (hopefully) keep me out of trouble. It costs $15 to go up the mountain. That’s an excellent deal compared to $25 for a motorcycle at Mount Washington, discounted from $39 for a car and its driver (passengers are extra).
Image: Google Maps
The road begins with easy sweeping curves through the forest. Don’t worry—this won’t last. It winds around the Crystal Creek Reservoir. The Pikes Peak International Hill Climb pit area and starting line are right past the reservoir. This makes sense, as the real challenge begins here.
As the ascent continues, the trees get shorter and shorter, fewer and farther between. This starts presenting some spectacular views of the surrounding landscape, even though it’s nowhere near the top of the mountain. Fortunately, there are numerous pull-offs, for sightseeing as well as for slower and faster traffic to sort itself out.
Photo: Justin Hughes
Traffic presented an interesting problem at times. As the road gets steeper and twistier, some timid drivers go around the hairpin turns at a snail’s pace. Motorcycles require at least some forward momentum to not tip over, unless in the hands of a highly skilled rider. My skill level is merely adequate. There were times when I had to come to a full stop while waiting for traffic ahead of me to go around the corner at 2 mph, then proceed at a more reasonable 5 so I could make sure to keep the rubber side down.
“She Cannae Take Much More, Captain”
Another issue as I continued to climb was power. My KLR650 is a piece of agricultural equipment from the 1980s. It’s carbureted and jetted for sea level, not the higher altitude Pikes Peak or Colorado in general. As I kept going up, the mixture went farther off from optimum as there was less oxygen in the air, and I kept losing what little power I still had. I honestly wasn’t sure whether the bike would even keep running all the way to the top. But I was determined to try. I figured that worst case, if the engine shut down, I could turn around and coast down until it would start again.
Photo: Justin Hughes
Before long I was above the tree line. It was hard to keep my attention on the road. The breathtaking views (or was that just the lack of oxygen?) were constant and all around. At times I could look down and see the road I’d just traveled thousands of feet below me, or look up and see tiny cars clinging to the side of the rocks far above me. The vast scale of these altitude differences is something I never got at Mount Washington. Despite being the best the northeast has to offer, Pikes Peak is on a literal next level. If you’re afraid of heights, you might want to skip it.
Above 12,000 feet, my poor KLR was suffering. I was down to second and often first gear, just trying to keep going up the steep climb. It felt more like a big overweight Honda Grom than a KLR at this point, for all the horsepower it didn’t have. It became the Little Engine That Could. “I think I can, I think I can…”
Pikes Peak Summit
Photo: Justin Hughes
Finally, just when it felt like my bike had no more to give, we arrived at the summit. Parking is tight, but just past the visitor’s center is a section dedicated to the brave few of us who tackle the mountain on two wheels. The visitor’s center is worth checking out, with exhibits about the history of the road and the mountain itself. There’s also a restaurant and gift shop if you’re so inclined. This can also be handy if you neglected to pack an extra warm layer to put on at the much cooler summit. Not that I’d ever make that mistake, of course.
Photo: Justin Hughes
But what what I really came here for was the views, and… wow! Imagine views like this, but in a 360º panorama as you walk around the summit. Ride to the top of Pikes Peak, and you won’t have to imagine. This is how it really is. It blew my mind to think that I’d taken several airplane rides that didn’t go nearly as high as I’d just ridden my motorcycle.
All Downhill from Here
I took it all in for a while, then returned to the bike for the long descent. I no longer had to worry about horsepower, but I was concerned about the KLR’s brakes. They joke that even the older KLRs like mine effectively have ABS, because they’re too weak to lock up. (That’s not true. My worst street crash happened because the front brake locked up on a patch of sand I didn’t see). I left it in the lower gears, took it slow and easy, and everything worked out fine. I also stopped regularly to let the brakes cool off, as well as take in even more amazing views on the way down.
Photo: Justin Hughes
Like the Space Shuttle dropping out of orbit, I managed my energy the entire way down and came in for a safe landing. Just like everything else from trails to track days, the KLR handled everything I threw at it. The adage is true: The KLR doesn’t do anything well, but it will do everything. Although the absence of dirt is unfortunate for adventure riders, it’s still a fun, challenging ride, both up and down, with quite a reward at the summit. If my adventure tractor of a KLR can do it, so can you.